In My Head
by madimpossible
Summary: In Let's Kill Hitler, Rory said he had a "sort of banging in his head," but what did that mean? The Doctor has an idea, and he's very worried about it. Taking place just after Let's Kill Hitler. Amy/Eleven, Amy/Rory. My first fic.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

"_I've got a sort of banging in my head_."

The words stuck in the old man's mind. He couldn't get rid of them. They repeated themselves whenever it was quiet, again and again.

_I've got a sort of banging in my head._

_A sort of banging_ _in my head._

_Banging in my head._

_Banging._

_Banging._

_My head._

He thought over the moment again and again, wondered if it was true, or just his time-addled, grief-muddled brain thinking things over too much.

But he couldn't help but worry. Had this man, this man who never died, this man who lived for love, who was besotted so clearly with Amelia Pond ... how could anyone so kind, anyone so _human_ ever be … be who the Doctor thought he might?

No. He was kidding himself. Joking. Hoping. It was never going to happen.

"Doctor! Can we actually do something today?" Amy asked, as the Doctor, a wrench in one hand and his sonic screwdriver in the other, slid on his back underneath the TARDIS console, humming to himself. "No, Pond, go play with Rory."

"Play? I'm not that much of a child."

"Yes you are, now shoo."

She could hear the smile in his voice as she walked up the stairs, off to go talk to Rory, or maybe explore the TARDIS' wardrobe room a bit more.

The Doctor stayed underneath, fixing his TARDIS, still humming, but then he thought – he slid out again, his coat pushing up against the smooth glass floor. Standing, he pulled the screen closer to him, and pressed a few buttons. A photograph came up: Rory Williams (Pond?), staring out of the screen. To the left, it had a list of facts:

**Name: Rory Pond**

**Home town: Leadworth**

**Parents: Alana and Jonathan Williams**

**Species: Human/Unknown**-

The Doctor stopped reading right there. Unknown?

"What on Earth," he said aloud, "is that supposed to mean?"

But there was no reply. He could only stare, filled with worry, at the screen. _What was that supposed to mean_? He adjusted his bowtie, but he really wasn't thinking about it. How could it … how could this even …

No. Rory was human, and even if he was something else, the Doctor was thinking madly. Jumping to the conclusion he most hoped for.

Or feared.

Or something messed up like that.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

The TARDIS landed with a familiar grinding noise as the three travellers stepped out. The Doctor was sporting his new plaid bowtie, a fashion choice which appeared to concern Amy greatly. She kept glancing back at him oddly, a concerned and embarrassed look on her face.

"Stop looking at me like that! This isn't earth! Fashions are different!"

"I think they have a word for _ridiculous_ everywhere."

"Oh, don't be so un-brave!"

"Is that even a word?"

He just laughed, and she joined in, pulling Rory forwards as she followed the Doctor. They seemed to be in a city – a normal (ish), busy city.

"Uh, Doctor, where are we, exactly?" Rory asked, a nervous expression on his face.

"Not sure yet! Let's find out!"

They walked forwards, down the street, past people, buses, cars. They stopped and waited at traffic lights, turned corners, wandered. After about ten minutes, Amy said, "So, um, anything actually happening?"

"No, I'm afraid not…"

"Was there a reason you brought us here?"

"_She_ brought us here! The TARDIS!"

"Right. She."

They turned a corner, down an alleyway lined with shops. They walked rather slowly, now, staring into all the windows, trying to make a stab at where and when they actually had gotten themselves. (it seemed to be early 21st century – but who knew?).

Suddenly Rory stopped, still, outside a shop: "Jewellery and Antiques," read the sign.

"Um, Rory, what are you doing?"

"Shoosh, Amy."

"Well fine, mr. Grumpy Stupidface!"

No reply from Rory.

Five more seconds.

"Rory, please, we must get going," said the Doctor.

"Just … just …"

"What is it?"

"I used to have one of them," he pointed at the window, to a pocket watch on a chain, "without the flowers, mind. And for a moment, I just- just thought-"

"Right," the Doctor cut him off, a very brave (yet worried) expression on his face. "Ponds, back to the TARDIS."

"What?"

"It's … it's boring here! Let's go somewhere more exciting."

In the TARDIS again. The Doctor wasn't sure where Amy or Rory were. He was standing by the console screen again, worried. So worried. He had to be right. He had to be right. What other explanation was there for _this_?

No. He was right. And what was there to do about it?


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

The next few weeks went the same as ever: some days they went to planets, some days they stayed in the TARDIS. Some days they were attacked by aliens, some days they befriended aliens (and then sometimes there were no aliens at all, except for the three travellers, because technically they're all aliens. Especially the Doctor).

But something was off. Amy didn't notice. Rory didn't notice.

It was only the Doctor, watching the couple, quiet most of the time, thinking. Yes, he'd crack silly jokes, ramble on to anyone who might listen, wear silly hats, say silly things, but really, he was quiet. After all, what could he do? He had to mess around. No matter how bad things were, he had to mess around. Before his memories caught up to him, and he lost all that made him _the Doctor_. Or maybe it was the memories that made him who he was.

The Doctor was spending quite a lot of time by the console, looking things up on the screen.

_Rory_. _The Master_.

Could he even think it?

But he was.

There was a link missing, though: the Master is gone. Sucked into the Time War. Gone with Gallifrey, the Time Lords. Gone.

And Rory, on the other hand, is very much _here_.

Then there was Amy. What would happen to her? She loved Rory, and he had given so much to her. Maybe it would all amount to nothing.

Maybe it was something else entirely.

Maybe Rory would never remember.

But yet – what if?

It made sense. River, Melody, was part human, part Time Lord. Her being conceived whilst the TARDIS was in flight was a good explanation, but wouldn't this just be such a boost? Hidden Time Lord.

It would explain how Rory never (permanently) died.

And when he walked into the TARDIS, he showed barely any surprise at all upon finding out that it was bigger inside.

The Doctor had to slap himself. Was he _hoping_ that this would be true? He was. As much as he disliked him, the Doctor and the Master, back, returned, the two ancient men, locked in a constant battle, so much fear, so much longing, the last, the-

"Stop," he said out loud, "just shut up, Doctor. Shut up."


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Back in Leadworth for a day.

Amy and Rory, both excited to see families and friend again, were first out of the TARDIS, walking close, hands dangling next to each other. Amy twined her fingers into Rory's as she turned and smiled at him. He hugged her closer to him for a second, before letting go as they walked faster.

It was sweet.

Very sweet.

And the Doctor couldn't bear to see this happen. How long could they last like this? Yes, there had been years and years for both of them. They could go for a long time like this. But in a time machine, what is time anyway?

He walked on behind them for a while, until they stopped, outside what Amy did suppose was Rory's house. He'd never seen any of Rory's relatives, and certainly never been inside his house. It was large and old, rather posh, but, he supposed, friendly enough.

Amy skipped up the steps, Rory following behind, leaning over her shoulder to knock on the door. The Doctor stepped back a tiny bit, but Amy grabbed onto his sleeve, tugging him forwards.

Suddenly, the door was being wrenched open by a short, round woman, with dark brown hair tied up in a loose bun. She had a face full of wrinkles, kind, small eyes, and was wearing an old-looking floral apron. "Rory, Amelia!" she pulled them both into a tight hug. Releasing them, she turned to the Doctor: "and who might you be, young man!"

"Uh … a friend. I'm a friend."

"Well, Rory, Amy, friend, come inside. It's been so long since I've seen you all!"

"Yes, we've been, um, to Asia. And Europe," Rory mumbled.

"That's where, now! Oh, honey, I thought it was Australia – no, that was last time, wasn't it? I've no idea where this silly desire to travel the world came from. I thought there was a baby on the way."

Rory looked at Amy. Amy looked at the floor. The Doctor looked around the room, studying the teacups and paintings.

"Well. Never mind. Tea?"

"Um, yeah, let's."

The Doctor sat down on a small armchair, next to the couch, where Amy and Rory plonked themselves. "It feels so strange to be back at your house," he heard Amy whisper.

"I know, it feels strange."

Half an hour later, after drinking tea, discussing their "travels" with Rory's father, discussing "families" with Rory's mother, the Doctor was ready to leave. Sadly, he seemed to be the only one who felt that way.

"Let's go upstairs!" Amy exclaimed.

"Um. Right. Let's!"

The Doctor followed them both awkwardly pausing to sonic the photos lining the hallway (he had nothing better to do, at least).

They disappeared, now, into one of the rooms (Rory's room?). The Doctor hesitated for a moment, wondering if staying in the hallway would be the safest idea, before giving up and going in.

"Look, Rory, all your old cub scouts stuff!"

"No, Amy," said Rory, shoving a pile of clothing under the bed.

"And the painting I gave you when we were nine!"

The Doctor turned to see a child-like painting, still tacked to the wall: green line for grass, a tree on the side, wide blue sky. A boy and girl were standing on the grass, a blue box with a head sticking out beside them.

The Doctor had to smile.

"And hey – hey Rory. Is this the watch you mentioned?"

The Doctor stopped dead. No.

He heard footsteps, crossing the room.

Amy's voice: "but why all the circles? What's that supposed to mean?"

He turned, and saw Amy standing in a corner, studying a silver fobwatch … how could it happen?

"Amy. Put it down."

"Aw, Doctor, no. I just wanna look at it!"

Rory crossed the room. "This? Yeah, it is."

"What's in it?"

"Don't open it," the Doctor intoned. Pleading. "I'm warning you – put it back, ok? Put it back!"

"Don't be silly, I just want to see!"

Rory took the fobwatch, now, and flicked it … flicked it open.

The Doctor yelled, an anguished, shocked yelp, but it was too late. Regeneration energy swarmed around Rory, his eyes blazing, his limbs becoming rigid.

"Doctor," Amy whispered, more Scottish sounding than she had been in a long time, "Doctor!" yelling now. "What's happening? Rory, please, Rory! Doctor. Do something."

The Doctor could do nothing, merely watch, as his nemesis returned, locked in the body of a friend, to a background of Amy's screams.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Rory wasn't Rory anymore. The patient, dogged boy, the last centurion, all that had made him who he was had left.

Amy was on the floor, huddled, this was worse than having him die again, worse than seeing him disintegrate, worse than forgetting, worse than so much. He stared at her with wild eyes, cold but burning with fire, empty, but full of madness. She tried to clutch him, latch onto him, but he just stared past her.

"Doctor."

The Doctor was unresponsive.

"Doctor, Doctor, oh, it has been a while!"

"Rory-" began Amy, "Rory, where … what are you doing?"

"I'm not your Rory. But oh, Rory. What a shame, now."

"Who are you?" She had probably never sounded more Scottish.

"Just leave him," the Doctor intoned. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? But what. Doctor. Doctor. Please." She had tears all over her face. "I'm properly scared. _What is happening to Rory_?"

"Just … oh, Pond." He tried to walk over to hug her, but caught the Master's gaze.

Everything seemed to be freezing. Amy was broken. The Doctor was shocked. Rory- no, the Master was just staring. "Aren't you happy? To see me back?"

"Look what you've done, though- to Rory. To Amy."

"Done to Rory? I _was_ Rory!"

"What does he mean? … Doctor, please, just … you can do something," Amy begged.

"Amy, I'm so, so sorry. Please, though, there's nothing I can do."

"Doctor, do you know him?- no, of course you know him, he's Rory!"

"I'm not, though," said Rory. The Master.

"But you've got to be. Rory, please, please, it's Amy! Amelia Pond. Your wife. _Your wife._"

"Amelia, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," the Doctor said again, "but I do know this man. And he was never Rory." He took her in his arms, held her close, and she closed her eyes. He did too, eventually, with the Master still looking on. The Doctor had known it for so long, now, but it was still a surprise. It broke his heart. His hearts. And if it did that to him, what could it be doing to Amy?

He pulled her up. "We've got to go. Let's go."

"Going, really," the Master began, "Running away? What, we've just begun! And there are so many things to talk about, Doctor."

"No. Not now. We can talk. But not now. She's broken."

"Let her be broken, it doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does matter. It matters so much. Let us go."

"Oh, I can't do that!"

"Stop. Have heart. We've got two, anyway."

"Yes, see, we aren't alone! There's both of us, now. Wait. Don't leave yet."

The Doctor was standing up, now. "Five minutes. Tell me what you're doing here, tell me how you got to be Rory. But in five minutes, I'm leaving."


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

The Master sat down languidly in a small blue chair in the corner of Rory's room, whilst the Doctor awkwardly sat on the bed, pulling Amy down with him. He patted her gingery, the most concerned look on his face, while she buried her head on his chest, no doubt drenching his jacket.

"Well," the Master began, "We're here together again."

The Doctor only nodded, a guarded expression on his face.

"Though, I do seem to have created a bit of a disturbance."

"I'd tell you how much you had ruined. It wasn't your fault, though. I'd give you a chance. I could give you a chance."

"A chance? What for?"

"Just tell me, first. What are you doing here? Please."

"I don't even know! I turned up here, fell out of this life-" he gestured to Amy, curled up now, fists gripping Rory's pillow. "-and I'm me- me again!"

"Yes, but why were you even fobwatched? What was this for?"

"Shut up." The Master smiled as he said it, but it wasn't a friendly smile. It was a twisted smile, sick, and the Doctor felt it.

"Why did you want me to stay, then?"

"Doctor, think: Lords of Time. We could be so great! Rule Earth, rule the universe! Together, the Doctor and the Master!"

The Doctor had to wince here. It mirrored his own thoughts: the thoughts he tried to supress, hide, were in front of him, being spoken aloud, to him, poised like a question, a request, an _invitation_.

"No."

"Always the spoilsport, Doctor."

"Just no."

"We can be great! We can be the best."

"I don't want to be the best. If that's all you wanted to talk to me about, I think we might leave."

"No. You have questions. I know you do. Go on, Doctor, go on."

"Look … I thought you were gone. Sucked into the time war. What happened?

"I'm not the Master. I mean, I am. But not that one. I was never Harold Saxon. I never created the Master Race. You see, in the years before the Time War, I spent a lot of time in the future, helping at a … a sort of _research plant_. We created these things: gangers. A model of me. But mine was special: a beta version, if you will: they're made to be dependant, only used while the original person is asleep, and then they can control the ganger with their minds."

"I know."

"You know?"

"Carry on."

"What- well, um, I was special. A test. I didn't need to do be sleeping to be controlled. I could do whatever, whenever. But then, there was the time war. I fobwatched myself – I mean, not me, but - the other me. He left me. Eventually, I came back to myself. But I couldn't deal with the horror – I don't know. I panicked. Shoved myself in some random time, some random place, and that's the last I remember. I guess I used the Chameleon Arch." He stood up. "How did you know, though?"

"I went there. Never mind. It isn't important." He stood up. "The five minutes are up. I'm leaving. Goodbye, Master." The Doctor lifted Amy up, pulling her forwards, they left the old house.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

"You shouldn't have done that."

"Done what?"

"Left."

"Pond, how can you even be worrying about that?"

"You shouldn't have left him there. Rory- that man, I mean."

"The Master. Why?"

"Because."

"Go to bed, Pond. I'm so, so sorry."

"But it's not even night time. And can't we do something? Anything at all?"

"I'm afraid not." He enveloped her in a hug, and they didn't let go for a long, long time. Tears leaked out onto his shoulder, dampening his coat again. Then he kissed her on the forehead, and that was that.

The Doctor stood by himself for a long time, thinking and wondering, wishing he had been wrong, wondering what would have happened if he had agreed with the Master. Knowing he never would have. Feeling resentful. Feeling sad. Feeling oddly glad. Confused.

For a while, he just kept on fixing the TARDIS, but eventually, he fell back into the chair, and closed his eyes. He didn't fall asleep. He rarely slept. He didn't even own a pair of pyjamas (though he was sure he'd be able to find him, if ever the urge took him).

Amy stood, feeling numb, confused, scared. What had happened to Rory? The Doctor knew him. Rory didn't know her. She didn't think he had ever been him. She wanted him to explain. She wanted Rory back. She was scared.

The room that she and Rory shared had a small closet built into the wall. It was nothing like the TARDIS' wardrobe room, but they used it to keep the clothing that they had brought with them from Leadworth. She pulled open the door, and took out her old Kissogram outfit. She didn't feel like that Amy anymore, the one who used to wear it, flaunt herself around town, be silly, impossible. It was like a memory. She had been scared then. She had been mad, loud, done silly things. In a way, that was still her. But looking at it, all she could see was Amy the Kissogram and Rory the Roman, but _where was Rory now_?

He wasn't dead.

But he was so far gone.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Amy was numb. That much was obvious. She wasn't even crying anymore. It wasn't that she didn't feel sad. She just didn't feel like she could. She had cried all night that night, and then all the next day. It didn't happen anymore. She'd try and do things normally: eat breakfast, talk to the Doctor, walk around the TARDIS. They had gone nowhere, done no travelling, until one morning. They were eating breakfast, trying in some way to be conventional, sitting either side of a small blue table the Doctor had found somewhere, plonked in the middle of the kitchen. She was scooping lucky charms into her mouth, while the Doctor buttered toast.

"How about Rio?" he asked her.

"What?"

"Rio. We never went to Rio. How about it?"

"Well, I guess … Okay. Let's go!" she didn't want to just sit for another day, pass another week. And why not?

"Ok! Let's go!" he dropped his toast onto the plate, pushed his chair back, and leapt up – running out of the kitchen, down the hallway, and skidding into the console room. He hadn't been this energetic for at least two weeks.

Amy, who had been halfway through a spoonful of cereal, plonked her spoon back into the bowl, and ran after him, grinning a real grin for the first time. Yeah, she felt empty. She felt so, so empty. But the Doctor would always be there, a one constant, always.

Entering the console room, she stopped in the doorway, watching as he spun in circles, leapt and jumped, switched levers (some that probably did nothing at all). One of them started some music: "A symphony for our journey, Pond?"

"Of course, Doctor."

She was still smiling when they stepped out of the TARDIS to, well, Rio. She didn't "dress for Rio" this time, she just sort of _was_.

The rest of the day was the best one she had had in a long time. She was happy. Not thoroughly happy. Not at all. But she was happy on the surface layer, and she didn't have to try.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

Two weeks later, some sort of night-time.

Night in the TARDIS was never exact, it was never a particular moment. What is time, when you're in a Time Machine? Nothing.

So they called it night when they were sleepy, day when they were awake. Well, Amy did. And so did Rory, when he was- was here.

Amy and the Doctor had spent the day together, on some futuristic city-planet, eaten dinner in a restaurant at the top of a tower, overlooking all the glistening lights, the sparkling sights. She had been happy again. But all the while, there was something missing. Maybe there always would be.

She had been sleeping for several hours now, mind addled with dazed, floaty dreams: Rory in front of her, reaching out his arms, her stretching out towards him. But every time it happened, he'd disappear floating into ash, carried on the wind. Then The Doctor would be standing there, in his place. "I'm sorry," he'd whisper, "I'm so sorry."

And she'd cry, and stare into his eyes, and they'd be true, so true. And she'd feel something, but it would disappear every time she thought about it too directly, always appearing as soon as she saw his eyes, and always leaving again.

When they got back to the TARDIS after dinner that night, the Doctor had said it was time to sleep, but did he even sleep? Amy couldn't picture him sleeping. How would he sleep? Slumped on his front, curled on his side? What would he wear? She couldn't even picture him in pyjamas.

With a jolt, she realised she was wearing the same night gown she had ran away with him in. She stared down at the white fabric, floating around her legs, and nearly fell down the glass stairs. Grabbing onto the railing, she saw the Doctor, still spinning 1around the TARDIS console, the way he always does: ducking and wheeling, clumsily graceful.

He looked up. "Hello, Amelia," he smiled. It was a sad smile, though: kind, but kind of worried. Nervous.

"Hi."

They stared at each other for a moment, a midnight blue, star covered moment. It sparkled like diamonds, was velvety as the darkness of space.

It disappeared in a second, and suddenly Amy was wondering if it had even happened. She walked the rest of the way down the steps now, and was standing on the glass floor, a pale apparition, sadness in her eyes, a strange smile on her lips. "Doctor, do you sleep?"

"Do I ever sleep?"

"Yeah."

"I … of course I do." he smiled.

She smiled back.

They stood then, for a long moment, until at last, the Doctor turned away, and began moving one little lever up and down, faster and faster. He reached for another small knob just as she spoke.

"I miss him."

"I know you do." He turned around, slowly.

"I miss him so much." Her voice cracked, and she was crying. "I don't even know. I don't know what to do. Or say. Or even think. I love him. But- but I just-"

He walked in a hurried, half-waddling sort of way, embracing her head, patting it. She looked up, stepping back a tiny bit. "_Rory, I'm sorry_," she whispered, as though speaking to herself, before leaning forwards and kissing the Doctor full on the lips, pushing him back against the console, tears still flowing. A moment like velvet, embroidered with silver. Silver and gold.

It ended just like the last one, dropped carelessly, accidentally shattered. The Doctor grabbed Amy's arms, which were currently in his hair. "Stop. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I love you. But we can't."

"Why? Her voice was choked. Doing this had been important to her. Big. It mattered.

"Think. Please."

"Rory's gone. I know he's gone. He won't come back, and I'm so sorry. But I just-" she pushed back a fibre of hair, caught in hear tears, stuck to her cheek, before breaking down again.

"We can't. River is your daughter, and ..."

"Yes, she is. But why you too? How, it just, I- ... can't you notice? The Doctor and Amy Pond."

"I love you. But this is mad. I don't even now _how_ I love you. I'm hundreds of years, and I just- just-" he cut himself off, walking forwards to hug her, releasing her again quickly. "Goodnight."

She stumbled up the stairs, pausing at the top, clinging to the banister.

"I'm sorry."

They both said it at the same time, but he wouldn't meet her eyes.

She turned and walked down the corridor, slowly.

Back in the console room, the Doctor turned back to the TARDIS, but instead of continuing, he walked past it, and fell into the small chair by the side. Pulling his legs up, he lay like a child, though he was the oldest and saddest of them all.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN**

When Amy entered the small kitchen that morning, she found the Doctor already halfway through a piece of toast, sipping some tea from a yellow mug.

"Um, morning," she said wondering whether it'd be awkward or not.

"Tea, Pond?"

Taking a mug from the cupboard, she decided that, yes, it would be awkward.

The next ten minutes passed in a sleepy, strange sort of quiet, while Amy considered making porridge (and decided against it: she really wasn't very good at cooking).

The Doctor had just finished is third piece of toast, when he looked up, staring right at Amy. "We're going back to Leadworth."

"It's time we went back."

"Can you bring Rory back, or …?"

"No. But we've got to stop the Master. Or do something." He pushed his chair back, grabbed his coat (which was hanging off the corner of the kitchen cabinet). Spinning around, he pulled it over his back, before leaving the room and running down the hallway.

Amy drank the last few mouthfuls of her tea, before pushing back her chair, and half running, half stumbling after him.

He stood by the console, adjusting a few knobs and gadgets, before flicking one large lever, leaping up, and beginning to spin around it, hitting buttons, turning handles, until, with a final grinding sound, it halted, as though reaching out to grab onto something solid.

The Doctor flung the door open, grinning, while Amy followed him into the cold, crisp day that was just beginning. The grass was frosty, crunching underfoot, as Amy and the Doctor, who seemed to have parked in the middle of Leadworth, right next to the "duck pond" made their way in the direction of Rory's parents' house.

"I don't know why he'd still be there," said Amy, walking in her odd, tight, tramping sort of way.

"Well, we need somewhere to start."

Amy nodded, looking away from the Doctor, eyeing Leadworth: her town.

They walked down the street, past the few shops, a couple rows of houses, until the Doctor was knocking on the door of the same one they had visited about a month ago.

No-one answered.

The Doctor knocked.

Still no answer.

Amy stepped forwards and knocked.

There was a small sound from within the house.

Still no answer.

They simultaneously leaned forwards, cupping their hands against the cold glass, pressing their noses into it. The front door was directly facing the stairs, and soon, a pair of feet, clad in familiar blue tennis shoes appeared on the stairs. Amy gasped, and began to bang on the window. The Doctor grabbed the back of her coat, pulling her back.

The feet took another step down. He was wearing jeans.

Slowly, the Master (Rory?) walked his way down the stairs, until he was standing at the landing, merely a few feet away from The Doctor and Amy, separated only by wood. Wood and glass. Then he smiled. It was a huge, slow, manic grin, the sort of expression you couldn't even imagine on Rory's face.

There was a cracking noise in the bushes behind them, and the Doctor spun around, grabbing Amy, forcing her to turn. She stumbled back in shock:

There, right behind them, half the citizens of Leadworth stood, motionless, blank, with zombielike expressions on their faces. Amy found herself reaching out, behind her to her side, until her fingers found the Doctor's. He stared at her as they backed up. So many people, more and more appearing from the bushes, moving closer, an army, hundreds and hundreds of people. Amy knew almost all of them. She'd grown up knowing almost all of them. She stared as they advanced, trembling.

"Doctor? You've got a plan, right?"

"Well, yeah, I guess."

"Because if you don't have a plan-"

"What?"

"I have one!" She hollered, letting go of his hand, turning her back on the advancing army.

"What are you doing?"

"When we were little," she said, moving her hands along the length of the door, pushing on the pieces of wood in between the panels in the glass, "Rory and I had this thing … where we'd sneak out at night-" she grabbed onto the Doctor's sleeve, pulling him along the side of the house "-and we realised, there's this little door, and you can get through it-" she jumped around the corner "-and inside!"

She strode past the overgrown flower beds, through the muddy brown earth, and stopped by a window. Kneeling down, she pulled the handle of a tiny, wooden door, reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland. She wriggled down onto her front, shimmying forwards into the door. "What? We're being chased by my murderous ex-neighbours, and you're even hesitating?"

"Um …" The Doctor got down onto his stomach, before awkwardly dragging himself through the door. "I thought your plan would be more, um,"

"Easy?"

"Yeah."

They were sitting on a dirt floor under a low roof, only high enough to stoop beneath, nothing more. Amy shuffled over to a small step ladder protruding from the roof, and climbed her way up it, into the house. The Doctor followed.

They emerged in the hallway right next to the stairs: wooden-floored, with photographs lining the walls.

The Master was leaning over the banister, looking down on them both. "Congratulations on making it back. I was worried you weren't going to show."

He smiled again, that same, terrifying look, before walking down the stairs.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

The Doctor felt Amy back up beside him, into the wall. He turned quickly to glance at her, and saw her eyes were wide with fear, confusion, love and worry.

The Doctor, on the other hand, felt almost happy. Hungry. He was back again with his friend, and he was not alone. He stepped forwards, dropping Amy's hand as he became too far behind, and their arms had to stretch.

The Master was walking down the stairs, slowly, turning his head to look at the Doctor. "You've regenerated."

"You too."

"Have I? Oh, when was the last time we met?"

"End of the Time Lords? No?"

"Right. I heard I was there." The Master was now at the foot of the stairs. "Doctor."

"Yes."

"Well, you're _meant_ to say Master."

"Am I? Well, I suppose that could be … arranged."

"We shall make an arrangement."

"How long has it been since I left?"

"A few weeks. A month or so."

"And you're in the same clothes?" he drew out the end of the phrase.

The Master did not answer.

"What are you doing here?"

"Nothing. _I_ never chose to be stuck _here_. Dreary village. Barely left the house." He laughed oddly. Not a proper laugh. A show laugh. A sarcastic little "hah".

"So, coming back to consider my offer?"

"I never gave it any thought. The answer is no."

"No, oh Doctor. _Think_. You and I, unstoppable."

"You've been here for a few weeks, you said. You could have gotten anywhere."

"Anywhere, _if I had a TARDIS_."

"No reason you couldn't have left the town."

"Well. I did make a bit of a past-time …"

"And it was?"

"Oh. Just look out the window."

Amy turned to spin around, but the Doctor held fast onto her shoulder. "You want my TARDIS."

"I want _you_ in the TARDIS."

"Well, sorry. Not happening."

"But it is. Maybe," the Master said, "you ought to turn around."

This time, the Doctor turned _with _Amy. Both stopped stock still, frozen, staring out of the window. For there, pressing their faces up against the glass, stood the citizens of Leadworth. Every single one. Staring out right back at Amy and the Doctor.

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